


As Earth Itself

by jamiewritesfanfic



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-23 14:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamiewritesfanfic/pseuds/jamiewritesfanfic
Summary: “I tell you,If you can love a womanThe way you loveBlackberries,Strawberries in the sun,The small red onions you plant,Or a hawk riding over ocean,If you can make her know itEven for a moment,You are as realAs earth itself.” --Holiday, Denise Levertov





	1. Lavender

 

It was a week past Selection Day when Ada’s mother burst into her office. “Miss Moonshine just quit,” she announced without preamble.

Ada looked up sharply from her fourth-year lesson plans. “Pardon?”

“I know.” Alma sighed deeply and lowered herself into a chair in front of Ada’s desk, picking up one of the little glass vials - the one containing rosewater - and turning it over and over in her hands.

“But why?” Ada pressed. Miss Moonshine had been at Cackle’s forever - had taught potions to Ada and her sister, in fact. She was as much a fixture of the academy as Miss Bat’s piano or Miss Tapioca’s dreadful pudding.

“She said something about a cross-country broom trip. I was so angry I didn’t ask for details. She’s packing as we speak.” Alma put the vial back on the desk, seeming to Ada very resigned.

“What are we going to do?”

Alma didn’t voice what Ada knew they were both thinking - that a vacancy, any vacancy, was practically an invitation to Agatha. “I’ve already sent out for an advert in the _Witching Times,”_ Alma said instead. “Let’s hope someone responds. Otherwise, I may just have to teach it myself.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t even a week later when Ada entered her mother’s office, hoping to hand in her supply orders, only to find her mother at the desk, a young witch across from her. “Oh, Ada, I’m glad you’re here,” Alma said, rising from the desk. “This is Hecate Hardbroom, our new potions teacher. Miss Hardbroom, my daughter, Ada.”

Miss Hardbroom sprung up, bowing deeply. “Well met, Miss Cackle.”

“Well met,” Ada said. The new potions mistress looked like she had just finished school herself, a young woman dressed as someone’s grandmother, her face schooled into an unreadable expression. It was all very strange.

“Miss Hardbroom.” Perhaps Alma sensed her daughter’s discomfort, or perhaps she was just trying to move the conversation forward. “I will catch up with you later, and we will begin work on your lessons for the first month. I will transfer you back to your quarters to unpack.”

With a wave of Alma’s fingers, Miss Hardbroom was gone. She had barely disappeared when Ada asked, “When did you hire her?”

“She spoke to me yesterday. I offered her the position at the interview, and she’s here today.”

Ada’s head was spinning. “Was she the only applicant you interviewed?” She didn’t need the answer - she knew from the look on her mother’s face that it was the case. “How old is she?”

“How old is she?” Alma repeated. “You do know it’s impertinent to ask, don’t you?”

“She just seems so…” Ada glanced over her shoulder, making sure the door was indeed closed. “Young.”

“Ada, you know as well as I do that this close to term, we’re hardly in a position to be picky. We can’t exactly afford to look a gift dragon in the mouth.”

“You’re right,” Ada conceded, picking up the girl’s - young woman’s - resume from her mother’s desk and reading it through. Miss Amulet’s, Weirdsister College, Witch Training College. All very standard stuff. But the last line, _Post Graduate Fellowship. Witch Training College. Thesis: Teaching Transference: Practical Potions to Move Mountains_ caught her eye. _Faculty Chair: C. Broomhead._ Ada had heard of Broomhead, of course. Everyone had. She only took a student once every few years, and then only the most promising. They’d hired applicants with far less to boast.

“And Ada,” her mother continued, taking the resume from her hands and placing it in a folder labeled _Personnel: Hardbroom_ , “if we keep hiring witches my age, you’ll be starting over, trying to build a staff after I leave. Miss Hardbroom could make her career here. Please go make her feel welcome.”

* * *

 

Ada told herself that this gesture was necessary, but maybe she was just stalling for time. Or maybe she felt the need to apologize to Miss Hardbroom for the words she had spoken out of her hearing. In any case, she took longer than strictly needed rummaging around the kitchens for a vase then collecting snippings from the gardens. 

She realized, as she made her way back through the castle, that she wasn’t entirely sure where Alma had put Miss Hardbroom. She assumed it was Miss Moonshine’s old quarters, but the academy had plenty of strange unused spaces.

Trying Miss Moonshine’s first had been a good idea. Even before Miss Hardbroom opened the door, Ada could hear the rustle of someone unpacking.

“Hello again,” Ada said by way of greeting, hoping to make a better impression this time. “I trust you’re settling in.”

Miss Hardbroom stood in the doorway, partially blocking Ada’s view into her quarters. “Yes, Miss Cackle,” she said. She was still stiff, this odd young woman, and Ada chanced a look past her to see items in neat little stacks throughout the room. Unlike Miss Moonshine, who was practically a hoarder, Miss Hardbroom didn’t seem to have much to unpack. But perhaps that’s how it was for most people right out of school.

“Ada, please,” she said, holding out the vase. “For you, Miss Hardbroom. Welcome.”

“Lavender,” Miss Hardbroom responded, then almost as an afterthought, “Hecate.”

“Hecate,” Ada repeated, then “Yes, lavender from our gardens. I can show them to you, if you’d like a tour.”

“I would,” Hecate said, taking the vase and turning into the room to set it on the empty desk. “Lavender to sharpen the intellect, I suppose.”

Ada couldn’t tell if she was trying to joke or if she was insulted in some way. “I was thinking of its purifying properties,” she said. “To cleanse your new...home. It’s been used for centuries to keep away -”

“Pests, I know.”

“Of course you do. My apologies.” Perhaps it had been a joke. Ada wasn’t quite sure how to read this woman. As she spoke, a sleek black cat wandered out of the bedroom, sniffing at one corner then another. “And is this your familiar?”

“Yes, this is Morgana.”

“We’ll pick up some milk from the kitchens,” Ada said, watching the cat stalk through the chambers. Most children named their cat some version of Midnight - Twilight, Lightning, she’d even seen a Blackie once. It was only a trip to Pendle Hill taken with her family the summer before she began at Cackle’s that gave Ada a different idea for her familiar’s name. She could only imagine an eleven year old girl, clutching a black kitten, declaring it to be named Morgana. The thought endeared her to Hecate a little. “Come along. Let’s get you acquainted with the place.”

* * *

 

“Have you seen the potions lab?” Ada asked as they left the Great Hall.  She expected to hear that of course the potions lab had been included in the interview, so she was surprised when Hecate shook her head. Alma must have been desperate indeed, so rushed to fill the position that she had forgotten. Ada mentally rearranged their route. Hecate didn’t seem the type to fill silences, so Ada started in on the thing she knew best - trivia about the academy. “The school was founded in -”

“1604,” Hecate supplied.

“Indeed. I’m impressed, though please know that this isn’t a test, Hecate. It truly is just a tour.” Hecate smiled and looked at the ground. Ada followed her gaze, realizing as she did that much of this witch’s height was in her shoes. How did she even walk in them? “But we didn’t move into the castle until 1643, after Christobelle Cackle’s students managed to blow up her living room while mixing a potion.”

“An incident that has never recurred, I trust,” Hecate said.

This time, Ada knew it was supposed to be a joke. An odd attempt at a joke, but a joke. “Of course not,” she said with a wink, opening the door to the potions lab.

* * *

 

They moved on to the East Wing, and Ada opened one of the student rooms for Hecate to inspect. “The student rooms have changed very little since my time as a pupil, I’m afraid,” Ada said, running her hand over a desk that had probably seen hundreds of cats scratching their claws on it. 

“They’re very similar at Miss Amulet’s,” Hecate said, wandering around the room, then pausing at the window, looking out over the grounds.

“I think as Headmistress, the student bedrooms will be the first thing I change. We obviously need new desks, and these old wooden bed frames are quite uncomfortable.” Ada stopped herself - she’d thought that for years, but she had never said it out loud. She realized then that Alma had been right. There was something nice about having someone here who was not of her mother’s generation. It had been so long since she’d been around a contemporary rather than children and crones.

“Can you make that change now?” Hecate asked, turning back from the window. “As Deputy Headmistress? Or is there a budgetary limitation?”

“I’m not Deputy Headmistress,” Ada said, wondering where Hecate had gotten this bit of false information. “We do not have that position here. I teach Spell Science.”

“Oh,” Hecate said, a look of horror on her face. “My apologies. It was an assumption, based on my time at Miss Amulet’s.”

“Please don’t worry,” Ada said, relieved it wasn’t some odd rumor going around the Witching Academy Network. She couldn’t handle any more accusations of nepotism than the ones that already came with the territory of having the same name as the academy.  

“It is an excellent idea,” Hecate said. “The new student rooms, I mean. I think the pupils would be quite pleased.”

“Thank you. Now,” Ada said, “I think you’ve indulged me quite enough. Let’s fetch some milk for your dear Morgana and let you unpack and rest.”

They walked back to Hecate’s room in silence, lingering at the door once they arrived. “Welcome to Cackles,” Ada said, surprised at how this day had turned out.

“Thank you,” Hecate said, “For the tour, and for the...gift.”

“Of course. I’ll come fetch you for dinner?”

Hecate gave her a long look. “That would be nice.”


	2. Mustard Seed

Ada gazed out her mother’s office window, watching as the snow started to collect on the academy lawn. 

“Ada!” Alma said, drawing her attention back to a conversation she would rather not be having. 

“Yes?” she asked, too tired from end of term exam preparations to begin to worry about what she knew her mother wanted to discuss - Agatha. It was the holidays, which always meant the same thing. 

“I said that I don’t believe it will be a problem this year. I spoke to her yesterday, and -”

Without a sound, Hecate appeared. It had taken barely a term for her to learn the layout of the castle well enough to transfer everywhere with seemingly no effort. Ada had never seen anything quite like it. Even given the topic of Hecate’s post-graduate study, it was such an effortless display of power that it left Ada a little blindsided every time. 

“Mrs. Cackle.” Hecate said it so quickly that she must have started speaking before transferring. “Mavis Spellbody and Eunice Gribble have taken wide awake potion to revise for exams, but they must have added too much columbo root because they aren’t only awake, they’re…” She sputtered. “Gibbering in...nonsense. I’ve administered the antidote, but -”

Alma cut her off. “Take me to them.” 

Hecate raised her hand, and she and Alma disappeared. Ada sank into a chair to wait. 

* * *

 

It was both of them who reappeared an hour later, an hour Ada spent alternately watching the snow and revising her second year exam. 

“The girls?” Ada asked, turning away from the window. 

“Fine,” Alma answered. “For the life of me, I cannot understand why they try this every year. The time they spend brewing the potion and dealing with the side effects was time they could have spent revising.” Ada nodded and watched as Hecate did the same. “I’m sorry,” Alma said, lowering herself into her chair. “Chanting to the converted.” She gestured for Hecate to take a seat, which she did, perching awkwardly at the edge of the chair. “On a more cheerful note, Hecate, what are your plans for the holidays?”

“I had planned to stay here, Mrs. Cackle, if it’s all the same to you.” As always, when talking to Alma, Hecate sounded like she was still in a job interview. 

Alma looked over at Ada, as if she would know anything. Ada had spent enough time with Hecate over the course of the term to consider her a close colleague, even an acquaintance. She wouldn’t quite go as far as calling her a friend, not yet - for precisely the reason that Hecate revealed so little about herself in matters such as this.

“Well, why don’t you come celebrate with us?” Alma said. “Miss Bat always comes to our gathering at Darkwood Cottage, and we would love to have you as well.” 

Hecate shot a glance at Ada in what she probably thought was a subtle manner, as if asking for something - permission? An excuse?

Ada smiled and shrugged, trying to convey that it was truly Hecate’s choice. “Thank you, Mrs. Cackle,” Hecate said. “That would be nice.” 

* * *

 

“What is the story behind Darkwood Cottage?” Hecate asked as they flew. Miss Bat and her mother had flown ahead, leaving Ada in relative privacy before her long day of family. 

Even with the warming potions they had taken before they left, Ada felt the chill of the winter air through her cloak and gloves. “My father is Augustus Darkwood,” Ada said, pitching her voice to be heard above the wind. “The cottage has been in his family for generations.” 

“Is that what I’m to call him? Mr. Darkwood?”

“Or Mr. Cackle. He answers to both.” 

Hecate was quiet for a moment. “What does he do for employment?”

“He’s in sales, for a cauldron company.” Ada was glad she looked over at Hecate - the look on her face was priceless. “Not what you were expecting?”

“I apologize - ” she started. 

“Don’t. People usually think, given my mother’s career, that he must be some illustrious member of the Magic Council. Not a mid-level manager at Cauldron Coven.” 

Hecate’s eyebrows shot up. Ada laughed. Cauldron Coven was a cut-rate company whose cauldrons were notorious for melting over open flames. Anyone in the potions field would know that. “He’ll want to talk to you about it, I’m afraid,” Ada went on. “Poor Miss Moonshine finally took to completely avoiding him.” 

“I’m sure I’ll manage.” There was a pause. “And does he live at Darkwood Cottage?” Hecate finally asked, clearly seeking a subject change. 

“Sometimes. Left here,” Ada said, leaning to the side and waiting for Hecate to do the same. “He often travels for work, and sometimes he stays at the academy.” 

“Don’t they find that difficult?” Hecate asked. “Living apart from each other?”

“I think they’re quite used to it,” Ada said after a moment’s reflection. She had never really considered it before. “I fear for their retirement.” In the distance, she spotted the cottage. “Ah,” she said, pointing downwards. “Here we are.” 

* * *

 

The cottage was delightfully decorated as always, pine boughs woven over all of the exposed beams and enchanted candles floating in the air. 

They were barely in the door, past the hugs and the ‘well mets’ and the introductions, when Augustus cornered Hecate. Ada watched in dismay as he asked, “Tell me, Miss Hardbroom, who is your cauldron supplier?” 

“Oh, Augustus,” Alma called from where she had stationed herself at the drinks table, as she fixed a witches brew and tonic for Miss Bat. Ada managed to corale her father over to join them, Hecate following in her wake. “Leave the poor girl alone. You know I do all the ordering for the academy.”

“I do,” Augustus said. “And you can’t even throw your long suffering, impoverished husband a bone.” Alma swung at him with a tea towel and he swatted her playfully on the bum. Hecate turned a color Ada had never seen in nature. Wonderful. This was going swimmingly. 

“Can I get anyone a drink?” Alma asked, putting the conversation back on track. “We’re making WBTs and Laughter Potions.” 

“That’s her name for gin and lime juice,” Ada explained to Hecate in a whisper. “I’d skip it if I were you.” 

“I’m quite alright, thank you,” Hecate said. 

“Ada, please put on some tea, then.” At her mother’s orders, Ada started to make her way to the kitchen. But suddenly, a buzzing sound took over the room, causing everyone to look up from their drinks. The air grew thick, then snapped with a loud crack. Agatha had arrived. 

* * *

 

Ada wondered, as she sat between Hecate and her mother, directly across from Agatha, if there was a time spell specific for ten-course meals. Surely some witch, in a position similar to hers, would have come up with one. 

Ada dipped her bread in her leek and stilton soup, usually a favorite of hers, listening to Agatha tell some sort of long-winded story involving an article she had supposedly written for  _ The Witching Times.  _ She ripped a piece of the bread apart with her teeth to give herself something to do. 

“Ada, please be civil,” her mother whispered. Ada resisted the urge to say what came to her mind - When had she ever not been civil? If she wanted to be impolite, she would have brought up the fact that she read  _ The Witching Times  _ every morning and had not seen an article by Agatha in her entire life. 

The story continued through the appetizer and the beginning of the salad course. To distract herself, Ada gave a side glance over at Hecate, to see if she seemed quite as bored. 

Ada had always assumed that Hecate had grown up in a lavish manor, attended exclusively by servants, but as her eyes darted toward Ada’s plate, watching which fork she selected for the salad, she started to question that assumption. In any case, this was likely the last formal dinner that Hecate would attend with the Cackles. 

She forced herself to look back at Agatha. “And Hecate,” Agatha was saying. “Where did you go to school?”

“My potions degree is from Weirdsister,” Hecate said. It was the first thing to come from her in the entire meal. 

“I was accepted at Weirdsister,” Agatha said. Hecate nodded and Alma shot a look at Ada, as if asking for confirmation. Ada shrugged - how the hell would she know? She and Agatha were at different schools at the time. 

“I decided to take time to explore instead…” Agatha began. She’d heard this part of the story many times, over many years. She could practically tell it. 

Ada found herself staring at her sister. When they were young, the twins were identical in every way - when Ada removed her glasses, even their mother couldn’t tell them apart. 

But now, nearing forty, Ada found that the white streaks in her hair grew larger each day. That the laugh lines around her eyes deepened. But Agatha looked...Agatha looked radiant. Her brown hair fell down her back in long, luscious waves. Her skin was positively glowing. She even looked slimmer than Ada in a way that Ada couldn’t entirely contribute to the black clothing. 

“Ada, would you please fetch the palate cleanser?” her father asked. “It’s in the icebox.” Ada glanced around. The fish course had apparently come and gone - she had even cleaned her plate - without her knowledge. Ada wasn’t sure if she was being sent away or offered a respite. 

“I’ll help,” Hecate said immediately, standing up so quickly that the flatware rattled against the table. Alma and Augustus put up protests about her being a guest, but she followed Ada to the kitchen all the same. 

* * *

 

The kitchen had always been Ada’s favorite room in Darkwood. While she loved every inch of the academy, the kitchen was of course built to be efficient and industrious - to serve dozens of hungry young witches each day. This kitchen, on the other hand, was homey - with a fire crackling in the stone hearth and dried herbs hanging from exposed beams. She paused for a deep breath, placing her hands firmly on the wooden butcher’s block to steady herself. 

Hecate stood slightly off to her side, carefully pinning her eyes to the ceiling. She appeared to be deep in thought. “Your sister seems…” Hecate began, but either she didn’t have the words to continue or she wanted to say something inappropriate. 

“Yes she does,” Ada responded. “She’s full of bat dung,” practically burst out of her. “She’s never published an article in her life.” 

“I figured as much,” Hecate said. 

“But they hang on her every word,” Ada admitted, ashamed to find it leaving her mouth. Ashamed it was true, ashamed it bothered her. “And she looks…” She was embarrassed to finish the sentence, to admit how much it hurt, looking at her twin and seeing a better version of herself reflected. 

“She has a glamour spell on,” Hecate said. She said it so simply, like it was just a fact, not a shift in Ada’s entire world. 

“What?” Ada responded. “I don’t know, Hecate.” 

“Let me prove it to you?”

Ada looked at her for a long time. Hecate was genuine - for some reason, she wanted to do this. Ada considered for a moment. Normally, she would suffer through dinner, make her excuses, and go home and hold her cat all night. There were a million things she should say - it was mean-spirited, it was petty, it was practically against the Code, it was… “We don’t have a lab here, or even an ingredients garden.” 

“Do you have mustard seed?” Hecate asked, not even acknowledging what appeared to Ada an insurmountable obstacle. 

Despite herself, Ada opened the spice cabinet, rustling through several jars of unused basil and thyme until she found it. A little glass jar labeled ‘Mustard Seed.’ “We do,” she said. 

“Perfect. That is the only essential ingredient. The rest, I can improvise.” 

“You know a glamour spell reversal?” Ada asked. “Off the top of your head?”

“One never knows,” Hecate muttered, pulling one of the copper pots off of a hook above the stove and setting it on the stovetop. “The first ingredient is henbane, but I believe any nightshade will suffice.” 

Ada looked in the vegetable basket beside the kitchen door. “We have a tomato.” 

“That will work.” Hecate waited for Ada to find a knife, quarter the tomato, and throw it in the pot. “Benzoin.” 

“I must admit, I’m not even quite sure what that is.” 

“It’s a resin, used for its fixative properties. Anything...sticky should work.” 

“We have honey.” Once Hecate nodded her approval, Ada summoned it from a cabinet, measuring out a teaspoon and pouring it over the tomato as Hecate turned on the heat and stirred the beginning of their potion with a wooden spoon. 

“Alkanet,” Hecate said.  “It’s used to make dye. What do we have that’s red?”

Ada thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers to summon the lipstick from Agatha’s handbag. Hecate gingerly took the lipstick tube from Ada’s hand, uncapped it, and cut a sliver off with a butter knife, dropping it into the pot. Ada couldn’t help it, she found herself chuckling a little at that. Hecate smiled in response. “Mimosa.” 

“Do we use the obvious?” Ada asked. Hecate actually laughed a little, nodding as she stirred the pot. Ada opened the ice box, extracting the orange juice and champagne. Agatha would be angry in the morning. 

“And finally, the mustard seed.” 

Ada opened the jar, shook out one tiny mustard seed, and placed it in Hecate’s palm. “Hecate,” Ada began, not quite sure what to say. “Thank you.”

Hecate smiled, then turned back to her potion. She dropped the mustard seed into the brew, whispering, “Worth beyond beauty, now let us see. Remove the glamour, set the true witch free.” 

The potion bubbled and turned white. 

“How will we slip it to Agatha?” Ada asked, hurrying to remove the six cups of sorbet from the icebox. 

“We give it to everyone. Anyone not using a glamour will be unaffected. So let’s hope…” 

“Let’s hope.” 

* * *

 

It turned out Agatha was not the only one using a glamour spell. Miss Bat somehow looked more tired than usual, and Alma’s hair was definitely a shade lighter. Ada could have sworn that even Augustus looked more portly. 

But Agatha was the greatest transformation of all. As she rounded her fourth WBT and her seventh story about herself, Ada watched as Agatha’s hair transformed to the same color as her own, Agatha’s face a perfect copy of hers. Once again, she looked at her twin and saw herself reflected. Well, she could finally admit, not quite. Not anymore. 

As Agatha and her parents and Miss Bat settled in for the night, Ada flew back to the academy with Hecate. With Darkwood Cottage disappearing into the background, Ada laughed until she cried, until her tears froze from the bitter wind. Then she laughed again. 


	3. Ancient Bark

With the Halloween celebrations approaching, Alma Cackle had taken ill only a week before the holiday. While the healers were assuring Ada and her father that it was simply a fever and nothing to worry about, it left the academy scrambling to put together the preparations. Ada wondered, as she often did, how she was to take over the academy herself with so little practice. 

With Miss Bat handling correspondence with the parents and Miss Swoop coraling the year heads into planning the student festivities, Ada decided to take charge of the faculty’s annual Halloween remembrance ceremony. 

Her schoolgirl practice of stealing things from her mother’s office had paid off many times over the years. Within seconds, she had located the ceremonial scroll in what Alma likely assumed was a secret hiding place - a small cedar chest on the mantle above the fireplace. 

She quickly reviewed the scroll, taking note of everything they would need. The first step was to determine which teacher would contribute which item for the protective spell. It didn’t take Ada any time at all to decide to start with Hecate. 

* * *

 

She was in the potions lab, of course. Class had only ended about an hour ago, and Ada found Hecate methodically walking from station to station, waving her hand over every cauldron to clean up the potions remnants the students had left behind. “Good afternoon,” Ada said to announce her presence. It only sort-of worked. Hecate still startled. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Cackle. How is your mother?”

“She’s resting,” Ada said. “I’m working on the Halloween ritual.” She attempted to approach Hecate at one of the workstations, but Hecate moved so quickly to her desk at the front of the room Ada had to wonder if she transferred. 

“Last year, Mrs. Cackle asked me to remain in the academy to ensure the safety of the students.” 

Over the last term, Ada had really began to consider Hecate a friend - they took tea together several times each week, they often marked papers or planned lessons together, and they even ventured to the village together during term breaks. But Ada knew that was a lie. Hecate had volunteered to complete nightly rounds and as she was new, Alma had decided not to press the issue. Ada thought for a moment about how to respond, conscious that this had touched some sort of nerve, though for the life of her, she could not imagine why. “I plan to ask the Head Girl to handle that task,” she said. “Then you will be able to participate. The ritual strengthens our protective spells for the coming year. And if you ask me, it’s quite a powerful ceremony.” 

Hecate still looked nervous, reaching out to rearrange an already perfect stack of papers on her desk.  “It will be quite similar to the other coven rituals that you’ve done,” Ada said, hoping to allay whatever the issue was. 

“I’ve never…” Hecate started picking up and examining random items on her desk - a jar of pondweed, a pewter scale. “I’ve never done a coven ritual,” she finally said.  

“Never?” Ada couldn’t help but ask, though she did move away, leaning against one of the student desks to give Hecate space. Ada had never heard of anything like it, like a witch nearing her thirties who had never performed a spell with a coven. 

“No,” Hecate said. “The opportunity never arose at Amulets or at Weirdsister, and when I enrolled at Witch Training College, Miss Broomhead believed…” she paused, and Ada carefully held her gaze, trying to seem unthreatening. “She believed that a witch should be self-sufficient.” 

Not for the first time, Ada wondered if there were more to that situation than met the eye. If perhaps Hecate’s great power had been bought at an even greater price. “Well, we must insist upon it here, I’m afraid,” she said, hoping to alleviate any awkwardness or argument before it could begin. “The safety of our students depends on it.” 

“Of course,” Hecate said, and Ada could tell she was trying to prove something - her willingness to be part of the group, perhaps. 

“Wonderful. Then consider us your coven.” 

Hecate turned away, clearing her throat. Ada waited for her, until she turned back, saying, “What must I do to prepare?”

“I have a list of ingredients,” Ada said, approaching Hecate again and unrolling the scroll gingerly on the desk between them. “Please select which one you would like to contribute.” 

“I can present the one that’s most convenient for - ”

Ada raised a hand to cut her off. “Please. As this is your first ritual, it is only right you get first choice.” 

Hecate took a long moment to considering it, poring over the scroll as if it contained some great secret. Finally, she delicately hovered a hand over the scroll, her long nail not quite touching it. “I would like this one, please.” 

* * *

 

With the Halloween festivities completed and the girls in bed, the staff gathered at midnight, just outside the front gates of the academy. Alma had even decided to join them, her fever having broken the evening before.  A massive pile of logs awaited them as always, ready for the ceremony to begin. 

Ada carried her ingredient in one hand, an old letter in the other. She took a place to the right of her mother around the pyre of logs, gesturing for Hecate to stand on her other side, which she did with a relieved smile.  Miss Bat and Miss Swoop filled in the spaces, completing their little circle. 

They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the sounds of the evening - the wind through the trees, the sounds of the castle settling in for the night. Then Alma started the ceremony. “Tonight we gather to commemorate Halloween, to release the year behind us and welcome the year ahead. To call upon our ancestors, our magic, and our world to protect us, to protect our students.” Alma paused and looked to each staff member, Ada last of all. “To begin, we offer something from our past. Please place your item on the pyre.” 

Miss Bat went first, placing a traditional wreath, woven of branches and leaves. Miss Swoop added a broken broomstick. 

“You’re next,” Ada whispered to Hecate, who stepped forward, adding something that almost looked like an old school report. Then Ada placed her letter on the fire. She didn’t know what was coming for her (one never did), but this was the time of year to release old loves, to make room for new ones. 

And finally, Alma herself pulled a sealed white envelope from her robes, placing it gingerly between two logs. Ada was never quite sure what her mother decided to release each year, but she knew it had to have something to do with Agatha. 

“We offer these items,” Alma said, looking up toward the sky, “not as tokens of our regret, nor as attempts at forgetting, but as symbols of our acceptance of change. We honor our past, and we learn from it, letting it inform our future.” 

Alma lifted her hand, which was the cue for the others to do the same. “Ada,” Alma said, “Please invoke the fire.” 

Ada had never performed this part of the ceremony. Perhaps...she didn’t have time to dwell on her mother’s reasoning. Instead, she began the incantation. “Fire, to cleanse our spirits, to convey our offerings, to connect us to the other world. Hear us now.” She pressed her palm forward, casting a fire spell. With five witches casting the spell at once, the fire roared within seconds. 

“Miss Hardbroom,” Alma said. “You will begin.” 

Hecate cleared her throat, and she glanced over at Ada, who felt her face warm in the light of the fire. Her voice dropped into the one they all now recognized as her teaching voice, the one she used when she considered something very serious indeed. “From the ancient bark of the Boswelia Sacra we derive tears of Frankincense.” She looked up toward the sky, the light from the fire casting dramatic shadows across her face. “Please accept this offering of frankincense and cleanse this space and our hearts. Prepare us for your guidance, prepare us to accept your protection, to recognize your will.” 

Ada was next, but she barely registered speaking her own incantation, placing her own item into the fire. She was too preoccupied with watching Hecate, her intense gaze as she watched the ritual play out.

Finally, after everything had been added, Miss Bat began to sing:

 

“There’s a saying old, says the past is gone. 

And we’re often told, life will still go on. 

But tonight we seek our sisters from beyond.

Look inside us now, find you everywhere. 

In the falling leaves, in the chill night air. 

All we ask is that you chase away our fear. 

 

There’s a haven that we’re longing to be. 

Our sisters, we invoke you please. 

Your will for us, let it be. 

In the coming year, dangers we will face. 

Please watch over us, sanctify this place. 

What you will have, let it be. 

What you will have, let it be.” 

* * *

 

Through some kind of unspoken agreement, Ada and Hecate didn’t return to the castle with the rest of the staff. Instead, Ada summoned a blanket, and they lay near the warmth of the fire, looking up to the stars. 

“What did you think of it?” Ada asked. “Your first coven ritual?” She turned slightly, just enough to let her see Hecate’s response. 

“It was …” Hecate was staring up at the sky as if it would provide an answer. “Not quite as I expected.” 

“What had you heard?” Ada couldn’t help her curiosity at why something both as common and powerful as a coven casting together would arouse suspicion in anyone. 

“That a witch casting with a coven...exposes herself.  That she gives herself over to others for their…” she paused, continuing in a voice laced with shame. “For their pleasure.” 

Ada had never in her life heard anything like that. She didn’t know whether it would be appropriate to press, so she decided the best course of action would be to lighten the mood. “I believe what you’re referencing is an orgy.” 

It worked. Hecate laughed. “Do you speak from experience, Miss Cackle?”

“You didn’t attend Oxford Spellcaster’s College,” Ada responded, glad to have brought out this playful side of Hecate that only surfaced from time to time. “You have no idea what happens there after dark.” 

Hecate laughed again. “I suppose I don’t.” She rolled onto her side to face Ada, propping herself up on her elbow. When she spoke again, her tone was suddenly serious. “What is wrong with your mother? Truly?” 

Ada held her gaze for a long time. No one had asked - everyone assumed it was a routine fever, nothing to really worry about. Even Ada herself had a difficult time placing what exactly was worrying her, why the healer’s explanations somehow rang false. “I don’t know, Hecate,” she said. “The healer’s haven’t  - “

“But what do  _ you  _ think, Ada?” Hecate asked. 

“I think she’s overworked,” Ada said. It wasn’t until she heard it out loud, in her own voice, that she realized it was true. “I think the work of running this academy, alone, for all of these years...I think it’s taking its toll.” 

“Hmm,” was all Hecate said for a while. “What will happen now?” she finally asked. “Will she step down?”

“No.” Ada knew that for certain. “This academy is her life. It would take much more than a fever for her to give that up.” 

Hecate nodded slowly, then shifted back onto her back, looking at the stars. After a moment, Ada did the same. There was no sound aside from the fire crackling. “Ada,” Hecate whispered. 

“Yes?”

“I look forward to the day you become Headmistress.” 

Ada’s first instinct was to fight that - to mention that her mother was hardly old enough to step down, that she had no practice supervising teachers or running a school, that her mother seemed to be less preoccupied with preparing Ada to take over and more preoccupied with getting her to continue the Cackle bloodline. Instead, she inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of smoke and frankincense, looking between Hecate’s earnest face and the stars. “Thank you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a quick credit where credit's due...Miss Bat's song is set to the tune of Gershwin's 'Someone to Watch over Me.'
> 
> And if you want to hear it...theoutgriber did an amazing version on tumblr that everyone should listen to: https://theoutgriber.tumblr.com/post/178899794639/a-little-singing-inspired-by-lovely-hackle-fic-as
> 
> Seriously, thank you so much for sharing your amazing voice with us!


	4. Fresh Bindweed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note of warning: this chapter deals with characters coming out/being out to families that are less than accepting. The family stuff happens off-screen, but characters do process their emotions surrounding it. So please take care of yourself and skip this one if you need!

Hecate transferred directly into Ada’s Spell Science classroom, almost the exact instant that the girls had left for the evening. That alone wasn’t unusual - she did this almost every night to collect Ada for dinner, but something about the way she was carrying herself, wringing her hands together, made Ada prepare herself for terrible news. “What is it?” she asked. 

“Ada, I have somewhat of a favor to ask of you,” Hecate said. “Please say no if this is a burden.” 

“I’m sure it won’t be,” Ada responded, confused. 

“I am wondering,” Hecate said. “If you might watch Morgana for the weekend. Mrs. Cackle has already granted permission for me to be away from the academy - ”

Ada held up her hand. She knew this explanation could go on for some time and decided to spare Hecate the justifications she seemed compelled to provide for something as simple as a weekend off. “Of course I will,” she said. “It would be lovely for Pendle to have a companion for the weekend.” 

“Thank you.” Hecate looked truly relieved, as if there was any chance Ada would have said no. 

“May I ask where you’re going?”

“I will be…” Hecate messed with the sleeves of her dress, pulling each one down over her wrist fastidiously. “I will be going...home.” 

Ada tried - and likely failed - to hide her surprise. Hecate never mentioned a childhood home. Never spoke of parents or siblings or childhood friends. If Ada didn’t know better, she would assumed that Hecate had winked into existence her first day at Miss Amulet’s. 

“Ah,” Ada said. “Is there an occasion?”

Hecate didn’t answer at first. She simply turned and walked out of the room, which Ada could only assume was an invitation to accompany her to the Great Hall. She only wanted to walk to dinner when she had something to discuss. 

“I’m unclear exactly,” Hecate said when they reached a strip of the corridor that wasn’t full of children rushing to dinner. “My parents...asked me to return. I’m nearing thirty, and I’m unsure if that has anything to do with it.” 

“Hmm,” was all Ada could think to say. She had known that - but Hecate’s birthday wasn’t for another month, so she had time for her annual tradition of worrying how to do something nice for Hecate without embarrassing her. “And you don’t want to take Morgana with you?”

“No,” Hecate said forcefully. “No,” she repeated, a little softer. “It would be...I would feel better if she were here.” 

“She is more than welcome,” Ada reminded her. She didn’t voice the rest of her concern. If this ‘home’ - whatever place this was - wasn’t good enough for a cat, why was Hecate subjecting herself to it? She sighed as they reached the Great Hall. Some mysteries were simply not meant to be solved. 

* * *

 

On the day of her departure, a Saturday at sunrise, Ada met Hecate on the front steps of the academy. Her broom hovered in the air beside her, and she wore a traveling cloak that was a little too warm for the forecasted spring weather. She gripped Morgana so tightly that Ada worried the cat would start to screech. 

“May I offer you a protective spell?” Ada asked. “For your flight?” She meant it for more than the flight, but Hecate didn’t need to know that, not when she was already so clearly nervous. 

“I would like that.” 

Ada held out both hands, and Hecate set Morgana on the ground, then placed her hands delicately in Ada’s own. Ada stepped just a little closer, whispering her spell: 

“As this witch flies through the sky, may she know I hold her nigh. 

Though today she go away, bring her safely home to stay.” 

Hecate squeezed her hands, holding on a little longer than necessary. She let go slowly, and Ada couldn’t help but wonder if she were reluctant to leave. “Good luck Hecate,” she said, trying to offer a smile. 

Hecate nodded. “Thank you, Ada.” 

* * *

 

By Sunday evening, Ada was exhausted. Her mother was back in bed, suffering from a vague form of pain that seemed to have no cause. Between Alma’s disciplinary duties and Hecate’s nightly rounds, the weekend had made her feel like she had the jobs of three witches. 

She sank into an armchair in her sitting room, a huge pile of marking on the coffee table in front of her. She had just summoned a pen when a knock came. It would be Hecate, returning from her mysterious trip. 

“I hope Morgana was good for you,” Hecate said as a greeting when Ada answered the door. 

“She was a delight,” Ada said. This wasn’t what she wanted to discuss, but she didn’t know quite how to ask. “Let me fetch her,” she said to give herself time, making her way into the bedroom, where both cats were asleep on the bed. She scooped up Morgana, cradling the cat against her chest and returning to the door. Depositing Morgana in Hecate’s waiting arms, she decided just to ask. “How was it?”

Hecate burst into tears. 

Ada was stunned for a moment, then jumped into action the way she might for a crying student, delicately removing a wriggling cat from Hecate’s hands and setting her on the floor, then guiding Hecate into the room, helping her to sit down on the settee. Hecate started trembling, and Ada couldn’t tell whether it was from cold or emotion. So despite the warmth of spring, she waved a hand to light the fire and unfolded a blanket from the back of the settee, draping it over Hecate’s shoulders. 

“They actually asked if...if Miss Amulet’s did something to me.  If sending me to a school for girls is what made me...the way I am.” Ah. That old tired accusation had been levied at her mother many times over the years. It must be the school, the parents reasoned, that had made their daughters the way they were. 

Though Hecate wasn’t looking, Ada carefully schooled her features. It wouldn’t do to look either too surprised or too nonchalant. She’d had her suspicions, but she had never expected to have them confirmed quite so explicitly. 

“I’m sorry,” Hecate choked out. “I’m so...I’m so stupid.” She said it with such bile, such hatred, that Ada felt her heart quicken. “I thought...I actually thought they would be proud.” 

“They should be,” Ada insisted. “I know I may be a bit biased, as this is my family’s school, but you’ve made a name for yourself here.” 

“What did they think would happen?” Hecate went on as if Ada hadn’t spoken. “They pressed me so hard, demanded so many accomplishments. Was it all just...just biding time until my true life began? Until I turned my focus to carrying on the family name? That all of my dreams were just...the naive ramblings of an irrational mind?”

“Oh, my dear,” Ada said before she could think. She had often wondered, over the years, if she had lost something by having her destiny laid out for her from birth. But in many ways, it had to be better than this - than this deep shame that seemed to arise from missing a mark you never knew existed. “Perhaps that’s what they think,” Ada replied. “That’s not how it looks to me.” 

Hecate finally looked at her, desperately searching her face as if looking for something. But as Ada didn’t know what it was, she couldn’t give it to her. “If only I had known,” Hecate whispered. “If I had known what they wanted…” 

“What would you have done, Hecate?” Ada asked. “Changed your dreams to fit theirs?”

Hecate shrugged. Oh hell. “May I?” she asked, shifting closer. Hecate nodded and leaned against Ada’s shoulder. Ada wrapped an arm around her, thinking for a long time about what to say. “As a dear friend of mine always says, we are who we are, and that’s never going to change.” 

Ada felt Hecate nod against her, felt her breathe out a sigh of what was hopefully relief. “What did your mother say?” Hecate asked after a moment, after Ada was sure the conversation was over. 

“What did she say when?” Ada asked. 

“When she found out about you?”

It must have been the exhaustion of the flight and the emotional outburst, Ada reasoned, making Hecate so bold. She hadn’t known Hecate had figured it out, but now that she did, she could hardly be surprised. Hecate had a keen eye few others could hope to match. Ada thought for a moment about what to say. This wasn’t something she was accustomed to discussing, but Hecate had been so open, so honest. “My mother doesn’t know,” Ada said, squeezing Hecate’s shoulder to have something to do. 

“Oh,” Hecate said, clearly surprised. 

“I want to tell her, Hecate, I really do,” she found herself explaining. “I’ve just never quite found the words.” 

“I understand.” 

Ada waited a long time to respond, stroking Hecate’s arm and staring into the fire. “I admire you, Hecate,” she finally said. “What you did took real strength.” 

* * *

 

Hecate was in the garden when Ada found her, a cushion under her knees and a parasol floating above her, shielding her from the sun. 

She was digging at something with a trowel, and Ada saw a tangle of greenery beside her - delicate vines and vibrant white flowers. 

“Bindweed?” Ada asked, taking a seat beside Hecate. If Hecate was surprised to see her, she didn’t acknowledge it. She simply nodded, and Ada went on. “It’s been a problem here since long before my time. We can hardly seem to rid ourselves of it.” 

Hecate stopped her digging, reaching across Ada to pick one of the blossoms and hold it between her fingers. “It’s quite tenacious, bindweed. It does not matter how often we try to dig it up. It has deep roots - it grows where it wants, not where the gardener tells it to grow.” 

“I told my mother,” Ada blurted out. She hadn’t come here intending to say it, only to distract herself with physical labor and conversation. 

Hecate paused, the bindweed still in her hand. “Is everything alright?”

Ada prided herself on being an optimist, on finding the best in every situation. But there was something about being here, in this garden, with this woman who was the very embodiment of tenacity and strength. It made her brave enough to tell the truth. “No,” she said. She realized that at some point in the past, she would have been crushed by her mother’s reaction. It wasn’t a rejection - not quite - but the disappointment had been clear. But now...she was sad, of course she was, but she wasn’t knocked off her broom. She picked a blossom herself, holding it up to examine it against the sunlight. “But it will be alright.” 


	5. Thistle Sprout

Ada paced back and forth across her mother’s living quarters, while Agatha and her father sat in the armchairs, arguing. The healer had finally tired of their constant bickering and asked the entire family to step out of Alma’s bedroom while they ran yet another battery of tests. Tests that would likely tell them nothing, like they always did. 

“Where is the healer?” Agatha said loudly, probably hoping the healer would hear through the wooden door. “I need to get back to the office.” 

If Agatha truly had an office, this was the first Ada was hearing about it. Augustus sighed loudly. Ada wished that Hecate were here, if only to have someone to give the ‘can you believe this?’ look to. But Alma had been strange about Hecate lately, and Agatha had a gift of annoying the hell out of everyone. 

Ada considered summoning something to work on. But she didn’t know if she could focus on it. And of course, Agatha would come up with a reason why her work was more important. She gave up on the idea and continued pacing. 

Finally, the healer joined them again. “Miss Cackle?” she said. Both Ada and Agatha turned in her direction. “Ada,” she corrected. “Your mother would like to see you.” 

* * *

 

Alma was lying in bed when Ada entered her chambers, propped up by a few fluffy pillows. A stack of correspondence was on the bed beside her. “Ada,” her mother said. “That is you, right?”

“Yes, mother. Agatha is impatient and about to storm off.” That seemed to satisfy Alma, who nodded. “What did the healer say, mother?” she asked. 

“Ada, I fear this is the end of the road for me as Headmistress,” Alma responded. 

“What?” She should have seen this coming - this term had taken even more out of her mother, if such a thing were even possible. Alma had been spending more time in bed than out of it. But still, when she had come into this room, that was the last thing she was expecting to hear. “Mother, it’s...it’s June,” she sputtered. Ada knew it was rude to be so demanding of a sick woman but she couldn’t help herself. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

Alma sighed, worrying the bedsheets between her fingers. “It has been a difficult realization, Ada. Both that I can no longer continue, and that you…” 

“What about me?” Ada demanded, the ire that sometimes built between herself and her mother threatening to spill over. 

“That I may be condemning you to the same fate. This academy, it’s more than a job. It’s a life...it has been for me, and I know it is for you. I can’t bear the thought that I could be asking so much of my daughter. It’s too much...too much to do alone.” 

Ada felt all of the fight leave her at once. She looked at her mother - really looked at her, and saw not the formidable witch and headmistress she had known in her childhood but a sick old woman, struggling to even survive. She was struck with an idea, a remembered conversation from years ago. “What if I wasn’t alone?”

“You can’t mean Agatha,” her mother said, pushing herself up so quickly Ada worried she would hurt herself. 

“I don’t mean Agatha,” Ada said automatically, suppressing a shudder at the thought. 

“Who are you thinking?” Alma asked, narrowing her eyes at Ada. She felt as if she were a schoolgirl again, caught stealing her mother’s spellbooks. “Hardbroom?”

Ada didn’t know quite what to say. 

Alma held her gaze for a long time. Ada knew what she was thinking - Alma had been watching her interact with Hecate ever since her decision to be more honest. And Ada couldn’t say her mother was wrong - something was happening between her and Hecate, even if she couldn’t quite put a name to it yet. 

Alma took a deep breath and sighed. “It would mean creating a new position,” she said. “And splitting the Headmistress stipend. But…” Ada waited for her mother to finish. “But it may mean you can do this far longer and far more effectively than I have. Ada, I think…” she took another deep breath, as if she were about to make a proclamation. “I think that she would be a perfect...partner for you. She’s diligent and organized, and she’s not afraid of disciplining the girls.” 

“Thank you,” Ada said, aware her mother was saying much more than was obvious on the surface. 

“I’ll send for her,” Alma said. 

* * *

 

Ada didn’t quite know what to do with herself while her mother talked with Hecate. So she wandered through the castle until it felt like the stone walls were about to close in on her. Then she tried the gardens, but a group of fourth years was playing a loud game of witch ball. 

She needed to get further away, she realized. During the school year, she hardly had time to sneak into the wood on the edge of the grounds the way she had as a pupil. 

Not much had changed - nothing ever did at Cackle’s - and Ada quickly found the old tree that she and Agatha had used as their meeting place when hiding from their mother. The tree overlooked a meadow that was covered in purple field thistles. It was a breathtaking sight.  She lowered herself gingerly to the ground, leaning against the tree, closing her eyes and breathing in the warming spring air.

* * *

 

“Ada?” 

She opened her eyes to see Hecate standing over her - she must have dozed off. “Hecate,” she said in response, waving her hand to offer a seat. Hecate hitched up her skirt with both hands and delicately sat beside Ada, looking out over the field. 

“I just spoke with your mother.” 

“Yes?” Ada couldn’t say why she was nervous, but she was. 

“Do you know what she asked me?” Hecate pressed. “Deputy Headmistress…” 

“What did you tell her?” Ada asked, hoping against hope for this to work, for her future to fall into place in a way she had never expected - with support, with a companion. 

“Nothing,” Hecate said. “I couldn’t tell her anything until I made sure you weren’t offended by the suggestion.” 

“I’m not offended, Hecate,” Ada said. “I had hoped...I had hoped you would say yes.” 

Hecate nodded. “I’ve never been to this part of the grounds before,” she said. “It’s quite beautiful.” 

Ada didn’t know where she was going with this, but she had learned over the years that with Hecate’s non-sequiturs, it was better just to play along. “I used to sit here as a pupil,” Ada said. “I love thistles. Despite their first appearance, they offer us vitality and strength. They protect us against negative energies.” 

“Just like you,” Hecate said.  

“That sounds more like you,” Ada countered. 

Hecate reached for her hand. “Perhaps it is both of us.” 

They looked at each other for a long time, until Ada felt tears well up in her eyes. “Do you want to do this with me, Hecate?” Ada asked, gripping Hecate’s hand like a lifeline, the fear over what she was about to do overtaking her all at once. 

“Yes,” Hecate answered without hesitation. “Do  _ you  _ want to do this with  _ me?" _

“I do.” 

The kiss, when it came, felt like an inevitability. Like something they had always done; like something that had always been in their future. 

Ada felt the tears roll down her cheeks as Hecate moved her free hand into Ada’s hair. “It will be alright, Ada,” Hecate said when they pulled apart. “We can do this.” Ada had never heard her so sure about anything. 

“Thank you,” Ada said. 

They kissed again, briefly. Then Hecate stood, pulling Ada to her feet. They remained hand in hand as they ventured back toward the castle. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Hecate said. “Your mother mentioned that we will need to hold interviews to replace you."

“That’s true.” 

“I’ll post an ad tomorrow. For Spell Science and for Flying.” 

Ada was so grateful for the help, so overwhelmed by Hecate’s confidence, by her care, by the new steps they were about to take together - as Headmistress and Deputy, and as...whatever they were becoming - that it took her a minute to catch up. “Flying?”

“Your mother didn’t tell you? Miss Swoop just quit.” 

“Why?”

Ada felt, more than saw, Hecate’s shrug. “I didn’t ask.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “We’ll figure it out.” 

As they approached the castle, dropping their hands as they came back into the view of the students running throughout the grounds, Ada realized it was true. 


	6. Roses Bloom

Ada woke early the morning of her first Selection Day as Headmistress. As much as she knew fretting wouldn’t do anything, she also knew that she wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon. 

Beside her, Hecate snored - a quirk she never would have guessed. Part of her wondered if taking this leap now, of all times, were a wise decision. But wasn’t that the story of her life? Nothing ever went quite according to plan. 

Hecate finally stirred, blinking her eyes open and looking around as if unsure where she was. “Good morning,” Ada said, hoping to make her comfortable. 

“Morning.” 

Ada thought back to the previous night, their first together - to the particular mix of intensity and insecurity that Ada had come to associate with Hecate over the years. She didn’t know how to express her gratitude that Hecate was here last night, was here this morning, would be here as she transitioned to this new chapter of her career and her life. So instead, she said, “The girls will be arriving in a few hours.” 

“Indeed,” Hecate said, pushing herself up to a seat. “We prepared everything this week.” 

“Mmm,” Ada responded. 

“That isn’t going to help is it?” Hecate said, rising from the bed. In one fluid motion, she twirled in a circle, replacing her night clothes for the usual black frock, her hair tying itself into a tight topknot. She held out her hand to Ada. “Well, then. Let us double check.” 

* * *

 

They started their walk-through in the kitchens, making sure everything was stocked and that Miss Tapioca was accounted for and beginning work on the feast. 

Hecate walked beside Ada as they continued on to the cat room, diligently checking items off on her clipboard as if they had not already done this entire song and dance last week. She went as far as to count every single cat, and Ada felt that her knees were about to go weak with the sight of it. 

In the Great Hall, Ada looked up from cleaning each of the desks to find Hecate painstakingly reviewing each and every exam, her lips pinched tightly in concentration. “Hecate,” she said, finding herself struggling again to convey everything she wanted - her worry, her anticipation, her love. “Perhaps we should adjourn for breakfast.” 

* * *

 

They took breakfast alone in the chambers Ada was only beginning to think of as her own. With Alma’s items all safely tucked away at Darkwood Cottage for the new phase of truly living with Augustus, Ada had been free to move in her items. Over the last month, she had found herself covering every available surface with her glass lamps, vases, and figurines - anything that spoke to her own style and not her mother’s. The rest would take time, she reasoned. Time to think of these rooms as her own, to think of herself as headmistress of the school. 

Her mother’s interference had become limited to near daily mirror calls that Ada knew would lessen with time. Alma was, after all, feeling much better, spending the days resting and walking through the gardens with her husband. 

Ada was pulled out of her reflection by Hecate setting the breakfast tray on the coffee table in front of them, then perching beside Ada on the settee. In addition to the porridge and tea that Ada had expected sat a solitary red rose. She recognized it as being from the gardens, but still, it took her breath away, threatening her already loose hold on her emotions. 

“A rose,” she stated unnecessarily. “Are you intending to invoke sub rosa?” she tried to joke. “To keep this meal in confidence? Or do you mean it as a protective agent for the trouble we’re bound to encounter this year?”

Hecate cleared her throat, fidgeting with a cloth napkin in her lap. “I’m afraid I was referencing its more mundane use.”

“Mundane use?”

“As a declaration of love.” 

“Hecate, I -“ for the thousandth time that day, Ada found herself without words. The tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. 

“Please, Ada,” Hecate said. “There will be plenty of time for that later. We have a Selection Day ahead of us.” 

Ada reached for her. “Indeed, we do. The first of many, I hope.” 

* * *

 

“What’s with you, HB? You look like a house just fell on your sister.” Dimity Drill had barely moved into the castle, and no one could argue she didn’t make herself at home. 

Hecate looked at Ada, clearly lost on the reference. Ada didn’t have the time nor the energy to explain it, so she offered a smile and a shrug instead. “I hope that nickname doesn’t stick,” Hecate muttered once Miss Drill was out of earshot, moving on to help parents place their brooms in the store shed. 

“I’m sure it won’t,” Ada said, thinking the exact opposite. Despite the constant bickering - or perhaps because of it - Ada knew that Miss Drill had been a good addition to their staff. She and Hecate had done a fair job, she felt, of filling the flying position. And after an interesting and complicated round of interviewing, they had filled the position of spell science as well. 

Hecate held out her hand to help Ada onto the platform they had erected, then climbed on herself as a small group of students approached. “Well met, Miss Cackle,” each of the students said in turn. “Well met, Miss Hardbroom.” 

Ada turned to Hecate. “I think this term is going to be brilliant.” 


End file.
